


A History Best Forgotten: A Hobbit's Feet.

by allthingsnerd



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, I tried to tie this in with canon as best as I could, I wanted to read it, Prompt Fic, but no one was writing it, forgive my crap-tastic writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 01:04:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthingsnerd/pseuds/allthingsnerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a fill for this prompt:</p><p>http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3651.html?thread=6990403#t6990403</p><p>"Hobbit feet are such curious things."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A History Best Forgotten: A Hobbit's Feet.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyRedFeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRedFeather/gifts).



> I read this prompt, I was inspired, I wrote. This is my first fic in the Hobbit fandom. I hope I at least did it some sort of justice.
> 
> Also, this was not beta-ed and all mistakes are my own.

Hobbit feet are curious things. For a people that prize themselves on being respectable, of dressing nicely and always eating their meals on time, and never having any adventures [except those blasted Tooks of course], hobbit’s feet don’t really match the image. They are large and hairy and all together quite unexpected for such a people.

If you were to ask any of the hobbit race why their feet are so different from the rest of them, why they are so odd, they would simply say that it is the way hobbits are. And that would be that.

Well, that is, most hobbits…

*****

_Hobbit feet are such curious things._

It was a thought that had crossed the minds of all the dwarves at one point or another on their journey, yet none had asked their burglar why.

What with going nonstop since they left Rivendell, none had really had a chance to ask. Now that they were in the relative safety of Beorn’s home and their leader, Thorin Oakenshield, had begun to accept Bilbo Baggins as one of their own, the question plagued the younger members of the group. It bothered them so much that they could be seen huddled in the corner as their elders were eating, casting furtive glances at their hobbit friend and quietly discussing amongst themselves on how to broach the topic inoffensively.

It wasn’t until later that evening, however that they were able to do so.

 

“Alright boys, out with it.” Bilbo Baggins had noticed their constant staring all night and knew that it would not stop until their curiosity was sated.

“Well…” Fili began.

“We were wondering…”

“Why’re your feet so funny?” The company went silent.

“And why don’t you have to wear shoes?”

Bilbo froze. All vestiges of merriment drained from his face as his stillness became unnatural. Gandalf hastily interjected. “Why that is simply how Hobbits are built, my dear dwarves. I, myself find that their peculiar feet oddly fitting for their race.”

“Come now, Gandalf. Surely you do not expect us to buy into that? I see your worry and fidgeting. Surely it cannot be that bad? Hobbits seem to me to be a simple race and Fili and Kili’s question to be a simple one.”

“I would advise you, Thorin-“

“No, Gandalf. It’s alright. I’ll tell them.”

“Dear boy…” Bilbo raised a hand and Gandalf, though unhappy, sat back and continued to smoke his pipe.

Bilbo sighed resignedly.

“It was a long time ago, indeed an age or two, when there was a race of small creatures who’s greed surpassed that of men and all other races. Even a dragon’s greed could not match that of this terrible race. They would seek towns with any wealth and thieve it. They would plunder and bring down any place that could boast riches. They stole from anyone, anywhere, it did not matter who.” He paused and ran a hand down over his face.

“Perhaps you remember a tale about your home, Erebor. A tale of a time when the Lonely Mountain was not so lonely. There were other mountains surrounding it, just as graceful and majestic as the one you call home. But the mountains did not stand a chance against these tiny creatures. They tore down the surrounding mountains to get to Erebor’s riches.”

The dwarves all nodded, “Aye laddie. Many a dwarf has had nightmares about that tale.”

Bilbo gave a little smile, “Nightmare, fairytale, story, whatever it is you call it, call it true. For it is. This race, the Ladron, plundered Erebor and killed many. It wasn’t until the other races: Men, Elves, Dwarves, and even the Maiar, allied themselves and beat them down. Many of the Ladron were killed and those weren’t were driven away from the great cities and their riches. And so Middle Earth was once again a peaceful place.”

“The survivors wandered, traveling with no destination. They spent many generations on the road, attempting to escape their past. It was during this time of constant travel that the Ladron’s feet changed. For Yavanna showed mercy to the merciless small ones and gave them hardy children with thick soles and hairy feet. She showed them the value of,” he chuckled, “ ‘good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home.’ Of course on the road, home meant family and friends.”

The dwarves were entranced, for Bilbo spun his tale and wove his words with ancient sorrow and a future hope.

“The journey changed the Ladron from the vicious creatures they once were to a simple folk with no need for frivolities or extravagances. And so the three leaders renamed their race. Hobbits they were called, for the word ‘hobbit’ in their ancient language meant humble, and circumstances had indeed humbled them.”

He smiled sadly, “I am the direct descendent of two of these leaders. My father was a Baggins and my mother, a Took. The third line died out many years ago. None of my people except myself and my gardener, the old gaffer, know the Hobbit’s true heritage and it is only I who can read or speak any of our ancient language. The old gaffer has not told his wife or his children the story of our kind, and I will never marry or have children. My parents married because they knew our heritage and my mother had been told she was barren. They intended our history to die with them, and I intend to honor that. Upon my death, Bag-End is to be burnt.” He shook his head, “Too many secrets and stories of our past in that place. It doesn’t do anyone any good.”

“I was a surprise for my parents, you know. They often felt guilty that this burden was passed on to me. But I am at peace with it. This knowledge will never hinder nor burden any of my kind after the gaffer and I die. My people believe that ‘hobbit’ refers to an old Rohirric term, _Holbytla,_ which means hole-builder. It is best this belief remains.”

“The Shire is both our haven and our land of exile. Exile, because we were forced to settle there. We could not continue our journey, could not continue walking, with nowhere to go, no home. But it is our haven, for we were given a second chance. A chance to redefine and reshape our race. We were given a place to call home.”

The group was still and quiet. Each dwarf was lost in their own thoughts. The history behind the hobbit’s feet was not something any of them expected and they, quite frankly weren’t sure how to react. Bilbo spoke again.

“I suppose, in a way, that is more of an answer to your earlier question Thorin. I do miss my home, and while I was born in my home and not on the road, I can understand your need for a home. It is one of the first lessons a hobbitling learns: never take your home for granted, it is something given to you, something for which you must always be thankful. Your home was taken from you, and now you know that I mean it when I say, I will do anything to help take it back, if I can.”

The dwarf king grunted. “Thank you Master Baggins. For your words and for sharing your history. ‘Tis not an easy thing admitting something like that and we thank you for your trust.”

A chorus of ‘aye’s’ followed the dwarf’s words. Bilbo relaxed and smiled widely, “I know it’s a lot to take in, and I’ll leave you to your thoughts, but I thought one more thing might amuse you all.” His grin grew wider, “the old name of our race, the Lardon… it means _burglars._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to mesh canon with what the prompter wanted. Did I do okay?


End file.
